Ghost of a Chance
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Camille finally reveals the reason for her abrasive personality. Follows 'To Boldly Go'.
1. Chapter 1

§ § § -- October 15, 1982  
  
It was quite likely the biggest bash the Fantasy Island High Class of 1983 had ever seen. Myeko Sensei's Halloween party was pretty much the talk of the school, and Leslie Hamilton felt privileged to be one of the invitees. It was a Friday night a couple of weeks before the party itself, and Leslie and her friends -- now seniors at the high school -- were sitting in a cluster on the edge of the fountain outside the main house, chatting about the party, which was in its final planning stages.  
  
"So," said Michiko Tokita, counting off on her fingers. "You've bought all the decorations; you have all the snacks and drinks; you've decided on the time, date and place. Okay, I guess what's left now is the guest list. Have you finished that?"  
  
"No," Myeko admitted, only a little sheepishly, and the other girls laughed. "It's a good thing you're around to keep reminding me of what I can't remember. My parents said I can invite as many people as I want, providing I do all the cleanup afterward."  
  
"Then you can invite the entire school," Lauren McCormick teased, grinning.  
  
"Except a few people," put in Camille Ichino, Lauren's cousin. Michiko shot Camille an irritated look and Leslie scowled at Camille. They had both grown tired of Camille's abrasive personality, and had learned of late that they weren't the only ones. Maureen Tomai and Myeko herself had reached the limits of their patience with her as well. Leslie, Maureen, Myeko and Michiko had talked uneasily about the situation once in Lauren's and Camille's absence, and the four of them had agreed that they were probably including Camille in their gatherings only for the sake of Lauren, who was quite different from her cousin and whom they all liked very much.  
  
"It's Myeko's guest list, Camille, and she can invite anyone she wants to," Maureen said. The cute blonde was down-to-earth and usually accepting of others; but she had a short fuse where certain negative personality traits were concerned, and she no longer tried to control her agitation whenever Camille aired her bigoted side. Leslie couldn't blame her, but she didn't have Maureen's courage to let Camille know exactly what she thought about it. She'd talked with both Roarke and Tattoo about it; but, while sympathetic, they had told her she would have to decide for herself how she wanted to treat Camille.  
  
"That's right," Myeko said now, shooting Maureen a quick, grateful smile. She then turned a disgusted look on Camille. "Keep it up, and you'll get yourself disinvited. And I'm not kidding."  
  
Camille shrugged but said nothing, and Michiko promptly turned back to Myeko. "All right then. Let's hear who's on the list so far."  
  
Myeko glanced around. "Well, all five of you, naturally. And probably Toki and Tommy, and Frida, and Kelly Harris, Janine Kurakawa, Michelle Stockwell, Steve Matsumoto..." She continued rattling off names, many of whom Leslie had never really met, while Michiko stared at her with wider and wider eyes. Finally Myeko ran out of names and shrugged. "I think that's it."  
  
"That's half the school," Maureen said and laughed.  
  
"Nah, just half the twelfth grade," Myeko replied and grinned back. "But now that I have some idea who to invite, I really oughta make a list and get some invitations to start sending out."  
  
"Just hand them out at school," Lauren said. "You'll save a lot of postage that way, and they'll get there faster."  
  
Leslie, who had been listening in interested silence, had a sudden idea. "Myeko," she said, slightly hesitant, "would you mind inviting someone who doesn't seem to get invited to stuff very often?"  
  
Myeko focused on her curiously. "Like who?"  
  
"I don't know...someone who maybe doesn't seem to have any friends, or seems really shy, or something. I was just thinking about when I first came here and was afraid I wouldn't be able to make friends because people would think I was trying to look better than they were when they heard that Mr. Roarke took me in. Michiko, you know what I mean. Who do you know who seems lonely?"  
  
Michiko blinked. "That's a great idea, Leslie. Let me think." She stared into space. "Cori Mukulani?"  
  
"Cori Mukulani?!" Lauren echoed and scowled. "She'd probably ruin the party. There's a reason people don't invite her anywhere."  
  
"Lauren, that's not fair," Leslie protested. "Don't you mean that overweight girl who sits by herself at the end of our table in the cafeteria at school?"  
  
"Leslie, believe me," Lauren said fervently, "I have nothing at all against fat people. On the other hand, I don't like mean people -- and Cori is mean. She's been in almost every one of my classes since first grade, and she's always been that way. Nobody likes her because she's mean, not because she's fat."  
  
"She'd probably hog all the snacks anyway," Camille observed, almost matter- of-factly, and got a round of guilty snickers in response.  
  
"Okay, not Cori, then," Myeko said and sighed. "But I really can't think of anyone else, at least nobody whose name I know."  
  
"There's a news flash," Maureen remarked, grinning. "Myeko Sensei doesn't know the names of some of the kids in senior class. Maybe you should invite all the ones you don't know, so that you will." Then she seemed to have an idea and gnawed on her lower lip for a moment. "Wait a minute. Who's the Spanish-looking girl who never opens her mouth except to sing in choir? She has this really exotic name, but I can't remember it."  
  
"I think I know who you mean," Michiko spoke up. "That would be Tabitha Zuma. She seems very shy -- always walks to classes alone from what I've seen. She shows up alone at choir anyway. I don't even know whether she lives on Coral Island or Fantasy Island."  
  
"I think she'd love an invitation," Leslie said, trying to recall if she had seen Tabitha anywhere but unable to do so. "Put her on the list, Myeko."  
  
"Sure thing," Myeko agreed. "You know, I don't think I have any classes with her. I'll give Tabitha's invitation to you, Michiko, and you can give it to her when you see her in choir."  
  
"All right," Michiko said. "Now that we've settled the guest list, how about costumes?"  
  
"Yeah, what's everybody planning to be this year?" Myeko asked eagerly.  
  
"Not again!" Lauren complained teasingly. "Every year you throw a party and you ask us the same thing. How many times do we have to tell you, you're not supposed to know what we're gonna be?"  
  
"Hey, it's worth a try." Myeko grinned.  
  
"Frida'd probably tell you," Camille remarked. "She won't understand Halloween anyway, so she'd probably blab away to you."  
  
Myeko stood up abruptly. "I gotta go. See you later, everybody." With that, she raced headlong across the clearing and was gone in only a few seconds.  
  
"She should've gone out for the school track team," said Camille into the uncomfortable silence that followed. "Fantasy Island High would've beaten the pants off all the schools in Hawaii."  
  
"Oops," said Maureen, glancing ostentatiously at her watch. "Gotta get back home and help Mom with another catering job. See you later on." She, too, left; Michiko murmured her own farewells and strode off across the clearing in Myeko's wake, leaving Leslie and Lauren with Camille.  
  
Leslie cleared her throat. "It's getting kind of late," she said uneasily. "Talk to you later?"  
  
"Sure," said Lauren. Camille shrugged. With a small sigh, Leslie turned and climbed the steps, crossed the airy veranda and let herself into the house. Just as she opened the door, she heard Lauren's voice, though not her words, low and angry-sounding. Hastily she slipped inside, not wanting to be caught in the middle of whatever Lauren was saying to her cousin.  
  
Roarke looked up from his desk when Leslie came in. "So how are the Halloween-party plans coming?"  
  
Leslie grinned in spite of herself, happy to have something else to focus on. "I think everything's falling into place. Myeko has all the food and decorations, and now she just has to write out her guest list and make out invitations. I think she's inviting half the school." Roarke and Tattoo, who stood beside the desk looking over some papers, both chuckled. "Now I need to think of some kind of costume. Could you maybe help me come up with some ideas? After last year, I'll need all the help I can get."  
  
"I thought your Bride of Frankenstein looked really good," Tattoo said.  
  
"It might have been, if Myeko hadn't been wearing the same costume -- and hers was ten times better, since she borrowed all kinds of makeup and costumes from the drama department at school." Leslie sighed. "I'd like to get as far away from that as possible, but everything I can think of has been done to death."  
  
Tattoo's dark eyes began to sparkle with a sudden brainstorm. "How's this for a unique idea. You could go as the Invisible Woman."  
  
Leslie stared at him. "That'd take a miracle."  
  
"You don't need a miracle," Tattoo replied slyly. "Just the boss."  
  
At that point Leslie got his meaning -- and so did Roarke, who eyed them both with mild suspicion. "I presume this is going to precipitate a request for a potion," he said, his own eyes twinkling.  
  
"It'd be perfect," Leslie exclaimed. She remembered a guest by the name of Harriet Winkler, who had requested to be invisible in order to keep an eye on her unsuspecting boyfriend. Sometime not long before then, Tattoo had accidentally drunk an experimental version of the potion, leading to some memorable hijinks before the effects wore off by degrees, making him transparent for awhile. "You got all the quirks worked out of it after Tattoo drank it that time, and you let that lady use it for her fantasy. It worked perfectly! Please, could I do it? Nobody could possibly beat this one!"  
  
"Don't forget," Roarke reminded her humorously, "the potion doesn't affect clothing. Are you sure that's what you want?"  
  
"I want them to know I'm there," Leslie said. "And anyway, suppose I suddenly became visible and I didn't...well, you know..." She blushed vividly.  
  
Roarke relented with a laugh. "Very well, Leslie, you may use the potion. It will take me a few days to prepare it, and you must follow my instructions exactly. If you do that, you should be fine." 


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- October 15, 1982  
  
Leslie had no sooner gone out of earshot than Lauren turned to glare at her cousin. "Maybe you'd like to tell me what this is all about?" She shook her head. "As if I have to ask."  
  
Camille rolled her eyes. "Like anybody cares."  
  
"You won't _let_ anybody care!" Lauren hissed. "You have a chip on your shoulder the size of the Rock of Gibraltar and you make sure everyone knows it. I think you're trying to guarantee nobody cares, so you can justify hating the world the way you do. Your attitude toward Andrea is totally unhealthy, Camille. You practically idol-worship her. Just because she -- "  
  
"Don't...say...it," Camille warned in a low, deadly tone.  
  
"Someone has to," Lauren snapped. "But I suppose if I do, you'll drown me in this fountain. Maybe it's time we made a big deal out of it and snapped you out of this mean streak you've developed lately. My God, Camille -- Leslie and Frida both think you've always been like this, and you've been driving away Maureen and Michiko and Myeko. It's too bad Andrea's been working herself to death at school ever since it happened. I think she should come home and see just what you've turned into."  
  
"Andrea'll come home when she's ready," Camille said frostily. "And you know she has to be there for the trial anyway."  
  
"So that gives you a right to insult other people?" Lauren demanded. Camille rolled her eyes again.  
  
"I don't insult other people," she said.  
  
Lauren's narrow-eyed stare grew long and thoughtful. "You know, I have to admit you're right about that at least. You don't insult _every_ other person you see...just non-Asian people. It amazes me you're still talking to my father, let alone Leslie and some of the girls at school." Camille stared at her, and Lauren sighed deeply and got up. "I can't take any more of your attitude. From now on, I'm staying away from you. I'd have quit being friends with you long before this if you weren't my cousin. Now I'm beginning to wish I could disown you." She grabbed her bike, jumped aboard and pedaled away as fast as she could pump her legs.  
  
Camille glared after her. "Just wait till the trial's over," she muttered angrily. "You'll see I'm right."  
  
§ § § -- October 29, 1982  
  
Waiting for their bus home from Fantasy Island High School on the last Friday before Halloween, Leslie, Myeko, Maureen and Michiko found themselves explaining to a very bewildered Frida what Halloween was all about. "Why must one dress as something frightening?" Frida asked finally.  
  
"That's the whole idea behind Halloween," Myeko said excitedly. "It's supposed to be the night when the evil spirits come out and have a blast for themselves."  
  
"Don't say that too loudly," Michiko warned, grinning. "Remember, this is Fantasy Island. It's not unknown to see things like that here for real -- and not just on Halloween, either."  
  
"You don't actually have to dress up as something scary, Frida," Maureen put in.  
  
"That's right," Leslie said. "You can dress as a favorite book character, or a celebrity, or whatever you want. When I was little I used to dress up as a Chinese princess."  
  
Frida seemed to relax upon hearing that. "Oh, that would be much nicer than dressing as something not so pleasant." She turned to Myeko. "So we are to wear costumes to your party, then?"  
  
Myeko nodded. "I'm going to give out costume prizes too. The scariest, the prettiest, and the most original. I've got to do some shopping with Mom tomorrow so I can find some nice ones."  
  
Lauren ran up to them then, out of breath. "Where've you been?" asked Maureen.  
  
"Making sure I get the books I need for this weekend's homework assignment." Lauren made a face. "I'll have to have it done before I go to the party, if I know my mother."  
  
"What happened to your cousin?" Myeko asked.  
  
"Who cares?" Lauren returned sourly, and the other girls looked at one another in surprise. Frida merely looked uncomfortable. No one pursued the subject.  
  
The three buses arrived: the one Leslie and her friends rode went to the eastern side of the island, and a second bus covered the western half. The third bus carried Coral Island students to and from the ferry landing at the northwestern corner of the island, near a hamlet known as Village Beach. The six girls found theirs and boarded, finding seats near one another so they could continue discussing Myeko's party. At the last minute before departure, Camille clambered aboard and threaded her way between the crowded seats till she reached the very back of the bus, where she perched on the edge of a seat whose two occupants had to squeeze aside to make room for her. Camille had ignored the girls as she passed by, and now sat staring out the back of the bus.  
  
"What's her problem?" Myeko asked, directing the question at Lauren.  
  
"Oh, she's probably got her nose out of joint because I gave her what-for the evening we talked about your guest list," Lauren said, clearly annoyed. "We haven't spoken since then, and frankly, I don't care. Did you actually give her an invitation, Myeko?"  
  
Myeko, momentarily taken aback, looked back and forth between Lauren and Camille a couple of times before admitting, "Well, I haven't seen her to give it to her. I could do it now, I guess." Crouching in the hope of avoiding notice by the bus driver, she managed to reach Camille at the back. Her friends watched her while she tapped Camille's arm with the small envelope and, when Camille turned a scowl on her, handed it to her. Camille took it, glanced at it, shrugged and returned her gaze out the window.  
  
Myeko, miffed, whipped around and nearly lost her balance as a result. The motion caught the driver's attention and he barked, "Hey, you, back there, get back in your seat! You know you're not supposed to stand up when the bus is moving."  
  
Myeko shot him an irritated glance but wisely held her tongue, and more or less crawled back to her seat. "Man," she muttered disgustedly when she was settled again. "That sure wasn't worth it."  
  
"Probably didn't even say thank you," Lauren remarked. "Why bother giving her one, the way she's been acting lately?"  
  
"She's been okay around me," Michiko said slowly, "but on the other hand, I've barely seen her in the last two weeks. She won't even sit with us at lunch anymore."  
  
"Just as well," Maureen observed. "I'm pretty tired of her nasty attitude."  
  
The girls murmured uneasy agreement and talk fell by the wayside after that. Leslie regarded Lauren thoughtfully, wondering if it might be worth asking her exactly what was wrong with Camille.  
  
§ § § - October 31, 1982  
  
On Halloween evening Julie brought Frida over to the main house so that Frida could go with Leslie to Myeko's party. Frida carried a large shopping bag with handles; Leslie was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that said, "My Best Friend Visited Fantasy Island, and All She Got Me Was This Lousy T-Shirt!" She was examining a white cloth hat when Julie and Frida let themselves in.  
  
Tattoo and Roarke, both of whom were watching Leslie, shifted their attention. "Well, good evening, Julie and Frida," Roarke said.  
  
"Happy Halloween, uncle," Julie replied and grinned.  
  
"What's in that bag?" inquired Tattoo, gesturing at Frida's shopping bag.  
  
"Oh, that's Frida's costume for tonight," Julie said, her grin widening. "Uncle, is it okay if she changes in the time-travel room?"  
  
"Yes, it's deactivated at the moment," said Roarke, which remark earned him a dubious glance from Frida. He caught it and smiled. "Don't worry, Frida, there is no danger of your being sent to the past."  
  
"But just to be sure, don't open the door in the back," Tattoo advised.  
  
Roarke awarded him an exasperated look. "Thank you, Tattoo," he said, with just enough sarcasm in his voice that Tattoo shrugged a bit sheepishly, and even Frida smiled. She let herself into the small room off the study, and Julie turned to Leslie.  
  
"So where's your costume, Leslie?" she asked.  
  
"This is it," Leslie said. "Well, mostly. I can't decide whether to wear this hat."  
  
"I keep telling you, you should," Tattoo insisted. "Otherwise, imagine the reaction you'll get when you walk into the party. You don't want them to think you're the Headless Horseman or something, do you?"  
  
"I don't get it," Julie said. "What're you going as, a vacationer?"  
  
Leslie giggled. "No...see, I'm gonna be the Invisible Woman. Mr. Roarke's going to let me use a potion, but he hasn't brought it up yet from down cellar." In the stone cellar of the main house, there was a room in which Roarke kept all the ingredients for his potions. Needless to say, no one other than Roarke ever went down there. Before the end of Leslie's first week on the island, Roarke had warned her that she was to stay well away from the cellar, no matter what; she had been too intimidated to defy this edict.  
  
"Well, if I'm not mistaken, the party starts in less than twenty minutes," Julie said. "Maybe you'd better get her that potion, uncle, so she and Frida can leave once Frida's done changing clothes." She studied Leslie again, this time curiously. "The Invisible Woman, huh? Well, it's a cinch you'll have the best costume there. Now I see what Tattoo meant. Yeah, you really should wear that hat, so people know your head's still attached." Tattoo chuckled; Leslie rolled her eyes. Smiling, Roarke rose from his chair and left the room to get the potion for Leslie.  
  
At that point Frida emerged and closed the door behind her. "I hope this crown will work," she murmured. She was dressed in an ankle-length white satin robe with a long, bright red sash tied around her waist and had donned a pair of clogs that she'd brought from Sweden. Her long golden hair hung free. On her head sat a gold-painted ring of metal into which had been set six electric candles which ran on batteries. Leslie stared at it.  
  
"Where'd you get that?" she exclaimed. "That's amazing!"  
  
Frida smiled. "I don't know where it came from. Julie found it somewhere."  
  
"Who're you supposed to be?" Tattoo asked.  
  
"I am Sankta Lucia - the Swedish Christmas saint," Frida told him. "It's a tradition. On the thirteenth of December, the oldest girl in a family takes coffee and Lucia buns to the parents, very early in the morning. If there are other children, they are attendants to Sankta Lucia. _Sankta_ is Swedish for 'saint'."  
  
"I remember my grandmother telling me about that," Leslie said. "I just never saw the costume before. You look beautiful, Frida."  
  
Roarke returned then with a small vial. "All right, Leslie," he said, "this is your potion. There is enough here for two doses, and each should last approximately three hours. The potion is harmless in itself, but I must caution you strongly not to let anyone else try it. Keep the vial with you at all times, and when you return here later tonight, bring it back to me."  
  
"Okay, Mr. Roarke," Leslie agreed. She studied the vial thoughtfully. "Maybe I should take my first dose now, since we're about to leave. Then you can tell me if it works."  
  
Roarke smiled. "It will work," he said, "but go ahead." Actually, in his tinkering with the formula while he was developing it, he had discovered that under the potion's influence, some people could see themselves (as Tattoo had been able to when he'd accidentally drunk it) and some couldn't (such as Harriet Winkler, the guest Leslie had mentioned who had used the potion in her fantasy a year or so before). There was no way of predicting which category a given person would fall under, and Roarke was interested simply for the sake of knowing. "Half the potion only, Leslie."  
  
She uncapped the vial and tipped it back while everyone else watched, as though she were drinking nitroglycerin and they were waiting for her to explode. When half the formula was gone, Roarke made a quick gesture and she lowered the vial. They all stood still and waited.  
  
Ten seconds passed and Leslie finally looked at herself. "Are you sure it's working, Mr. Roarke? I can still see myself." She stared worriedly at him.  
  
Roarke could see anyone who took the stuff, whether they saw themselves or not; but he could always tell when it had taken effect. "Yes, Leslie, it's working."  
  
"I'll say," Julie put in. "Wow, Leslie, that's incredible. You're gonna knock everybody's socks off at that party. I just wish I could see their faces when you walk in."  
  
Leslie giggled. "I'll tell you all about it, I promise. Come on, Frida, let's go." 


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- October 31, 1982  
  
Leslie had borrowed one of the red canopy-topped station wagons to get herself and Frida to the party. She had to park the car along the dirt lane in front of the Sensei home because the gravel driveway was full of bicycles. "I wonder if we're the last ones here," said Leslie.  
  
Frida shrugged. "It's not so easy to see that. I know Myeko invited many people." So saying, she gathered the skirt of her long white satin gown and climbed out of the car. Leslie, patting her pocket to be sure the vial was still there, followed her along to the front door.  
  
Myeko's seven-year-old sister Sayuri answered the door and gaped at them both, eyes popping. "Wow!!" she finally burst out. "Gosh, you're pretty...and you're invisible!"  
  
"So we are," Leslie said with a laugh. "Hope you don't mind if we come in."  
  
"Gee, how'd you do that?" Sayuri marveled. "Can you see yourself in the mirror?"  
  
"I don't know," Leslie realized. "I never thought of that, and I don't think Mr. Roarke did either. Frida, why don't you go first...and turn on your candles. Is there a switch?"  
  
For a moment or two Leslie and Frida inspected the candle crown and finally found a small switch which Frida pushed. The candles promptly came alight, and Frida set the crown back on her head while Sayuri stared in wonder. Leslie had to nudge the little girl before she said, "Oh yeah. Party's down there and go in the door on the left. I wish my mom would let me be at the party, but she said it's just for teenagers and Myeko'd probably get mad if she saw me there anyway."  
  
"Oh, c'mon, didn't you go trick-or-treating earlier?" Leslie asked, grinning. "Look at it this way -- you don't have to share your candy, since we have all that other stuff at the party."  
  
Sayuri brightened. "Hey yeah, you're right!" she exclaimed. "I'm gonna see if I can have some now. Have fun." She scampered off, and Leslie and Frida made their way into the den where the party was already in full swing. Frida slipped in first, and when some of the "oohing" and "aahing" had died down, Leslie -- unable to resist a theatrical entrance -- stepped through the doorway.  
  
This time, everyone nearby froze and gawked. Then Myeko yelled, "Leslie Hamilton, is that you? Oh my God, I can't believe it!"  
  
"How do you know who it is?" asked someone Leslie didn't know.  
  
"She lives with Mr. Roarke," Myeko said in a tone that suggested the speaker must be an idiot and that this statement should be enough to explain everything. She approached Leslie along with Michiko, Lauren, Camille and Maureen. "This is unreal. How'd you do it?" She reached out and poked at Leslie, who playfully poked her friend right back.  
  
"Mr. Roarke let me use a potion," she said, studying her friends' costumes. "You guys all look terrific." Maureen was dressed as a Romanian bride, using her mother's costume and accessories; Myeko was decked out as a clown; Camille was clad in a slinky black cat outfit with broom straws stuck to her face for whiskers and lots of bright green eye shadow; Lauren had decided to be Dorothy from "The Wizard of Oz"; and Michiko was outfitted as a Japanese geisha.  
  
"Thanks," the others chorused, still gaping at her. Even Camille seemed impressed. Lauren reached out and pinched Leslie's arm, remarking, "I guess you're really there all right. So you got to use a potion? Geez, we should've known." The girls laughed.  
  
"Does it wear off?" queried Camille.  
  
"Yeah, this dose should last till about nine or so, and it takes about half an hour to wear off completely. I've got another dose on me. When the first one wears off I'll just take the second one. In the meantime I'll look like a ghost for awhile."  
  
Myeko wailed melodramatically, "Aw, now that's not fair! A two-in-one costume!" The girls laughed and began to weave their way through groups of kids towards the refreshment table.  
  
The party went smoothly for the first few hours or so. By around 9:15 people were beginning to stare at Leslie again, this time because her first dose of potion was wearing off and she had acquired a rather eerie transparency. The boy she was dancing with -- Camille's older brother Tommy -- kept reaching out and tapping her arm or hand, trying to convince himself she was solid and corporeal. "You know," he said, "maybe next year you could convince Mr. Roarke to alter that potion of his so you can look like a ghost for longer than however long it takes for this stuff to wear off."  
  
Leslie laughed. "I wonder if there's even going to be a party next year," she said. "Wish I'd thought of it last year, instead of my awful Bride of Frankenstein. Once I'm fully visible I have to take my other dose."  
  
"Too bad," Tommy bantered. "I won't be able to see where to kiss you later."  
  
"Sorry," Leslie said lightly, trying to hide her sudden unease at this remark. She liked Tommy well enough, but not to the point where she was interested in him as a boyfriend.  
  
Tommy took it good-naturedly. "Let's get some more punch," he suggested.  
  
Leslie agreed, and they found the refreshment table, where Myeko's mother had come down long enough to replenish the drinks and snacks. Mrs. Sensei smiled at the two and then blinked at sight of Leslie. "Good heavens," she said. "Are you all right, Leslie?"  
  
Leslie and Tommy laughed. "I'm fine, Mrs. Sensei," Leslie assured her and explained why she looked like a ghost. Mrs. Sensei laughed as well.  
  
"Very clever idea," she said. "Well, I'm glad you're all having a good time." At that point Camille, Myeko, and Frida, who was with a girl Leslie didn't know, all came up to the table at the same time. "Hi, girls. I had no idea there would be so many people here. I had to run out for more snacks and soda."  
  
Camille grinned. "Guess you can be thankful we're all seniors and this won't be happening again next year." Mrs. Sensei chuckled and agreed, gathering up the empty soda bottles and departing.  
  
"I keep meaning to ask you," Leslie broke in. "How'd you get those whiskers to stay put?"  
  
"Spirit gum," Camille told her. "Myeko borrowed some from the drama department and let me use it. The stuff really works. What do you think of Michiko's outfit?"  
  
"Gorgeous," Leslie said. "I'd love to know where she got the costume." The girls chatted idly for a few minutes about costumes they liked; the girl next to Frida tuned in. She was dressed to look like a member of the glam-rock band Kiss, and had clearly been teetering on her enormous platform shoes for a little too long. She pulled them off as she spoke.  
  
"Who do you think will win the costume prizes?" she asked. "Actually, if you ask me, Leslie here has it all sewn up for most original."  
  
Camille shrugged. "She probably does. Cripes, Michelle, didn't you know Kiss is out? How come you dressed up like that?"  
  
Michelle laughed. "I waited too long to go to the rental shop, and this was one of the last three or four they had left. So I'm stuck pretending to be Peter Criss all night long. These shoes are absolute killers. Wish I'd thought of something like Frida's costume." She turned to Frida, who still stood beside her. "How did you come up with that costume idea? It's Saint Lucia, isn't it?"  
  
Frida nodded, features brightening. "Julie helped me. I wasn't sure if I would like this, but it has been a lovely party."  
  
_"En härlig fest,"_ Michelle said unexpectedly in Swedish.  
  
"Are you teaching her Swedish, Frida?" Leslie asked with interest.  
  
"Yes, she asked to learn a little," Frida said a little sheepishly. "We have become good friends since I came here last year. Michelle has learned much about Sweden and it has been nice to know someone who is interested in my country."  
  
"Geeeeeez," Camille groaned rudely. "If you miss Sweden so much, then what're you doing here? Why don't you just go back?"  
  
Michelle and Leslie stared at Camille in complete shock; Frida blinked, looking as if Camille had hit her. Tommy, who had been hanging around just behind Leslie, demanded, "Camille, what's wrong with you?"  
  
Camille seemed not to have heard him. "Ever since you showed up here, all I ever hear anymore is stuff about Sweden. I'm really sick and tired of you and that place. You should've stayed in that cradle-to-grave welfare state of yours and rotted there. We don't need you here! Why don't you go back home?"  
  
"Shut up, Camille," Tommy warned, face red with fury.  
  
Frida's eyes were full of tears, but she was a little more composed than Leslie and Michelle, who were still too stunned to speak. "Why do you hate me so? I have never tried to harm you."  
  
"I just hate Swedish people," Camille shouted. Leslie turned pale, but no one noticed. "All that free-sex stuff and the porn movies...makes you people think you can do anything you want. It sure made that creep think he could get away with raping my sister!"  
  
Her last words stopped the party cold, as though a switch had been flipped. Everyone gaped at Camille, whose broom-straw whiskers quivered in time to her furious trembling. Tommy looked as if he would have liked to melt through the floor; Frida's face was white and tears were pouring out of her eyes. Michelle shot Camille a disgusted glare and put a comforting arm around Frida's shoulders.  
  
Then Leslie spoke in a deadly quiet voice. "So does that mean you hate me too?" she wanted to know. Some part of her registered amazement that she could even open her mouth; mostly she was just numb.  
  
Camille gave her an impatient glance. "What's this got to do with you?"  
  
"News flash," Leslie said, sarcasm building with every word. "I'm part Swedish myself. So I suppose that means you must hate me too. God knows you've been barely tolerant of me ever since I came to Fantasy Island. I don't know what makes you think your sister's rape justifies you hating Swedish people, but now that I've seen this side of you, I'm not so sure I want to be friends with you anymore. And frankly, I think it's time for me to go home."  
  
"I will go with you," Frida murmured, voice choked with tears.  
  
"I'll come too," Michelle said loyally. One after another, Michiko, Maureen, Lauren and several others announced their intentions to leave as well.  
  
"Wait a minute!" cried Myeko. "Just wait a minute!" She marched up to Camille and shoved her garishly-made-up face right into Camille's startled one. "If anyone's leaving here, it's you, Camille Ichino. Before you break up my party with your stupid racist ideas, you better get out of here and don't even think about coming back. And hurry up before we decide to lynch you!"  
  
Camille actually looked taken aback. She stepped back once, stared at Leslie as if in disbelief, then glanced around at the sea of hostile faces glaring at her. She drew in a breath and finally moved hesitantly for the doorway. Other kids parted to let her pass, drawing away from her as if she were contagious. In the complete silence, they heard her footsteps break into a run once she'd cleared the den; and a moment later, the front door thudded shut behind her.  
  
"I remember that you said your grandmother came from Sweden," Frida ventured, speaking to Leslie in a watery whisper.  
  
Leslie nodded faintly. "Her name was Ingunna Hansson. She was my mother's mother, and the only grandparent I knew. I knew Camille was being nasty to you, but I didn't know why till now."  
  
"What's her problem, anyway?" Myeko wanted to know. The noise of the party had begun welling up again, enough to cover her angry demand. "Leslie's right -- Camille's been really cruel to Frida, and for that matter, she's never exactly been overly welcoming to Leslie either. She get a bee up her butt?"  
  
Tommy sighed deeply. "It's a long story, Myeko," he said. "Listen, thanks for inviting me to the party, it's been great. But I think I better get on home too." He hesitated. "Lauren knows what happened. You could ask her." With that, he turned and departed the den, head hanging.  
  
"You okay, Leslie? Frida?" Myeko asked anxiously.  
  
Frida nodded, and Michelle said, "Don't worry, I'll keep her company. Come on, Frida, let's go find Janine and Caitlyn." Frida let Michelle lead her off into the crowd.  
  
"You don't look too good," Myeko told Leslie frankly.  
  
"I'll bet," Leslie said and grimaced. "Might as well take my other shot of potion right now, so nobody has to look at me." She pulled the vial out of her pocket and drained its remaining contents; Myeko stared as, from her point of view, Leslie faded rapidly out of sight, leaving only her clothing to show that she was still there.  
  
"Eerie," Myeko pronounced, shaking her head. "Come on, have something to drink. It'll help you feel better." Leslie acquiesced, but she wondered if she had just managed to lose someone she'd thought was a friend. 


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- October 31, 1982  
  
"So the party was not all bad," Frida said consolingly to Leslie on the way to the MacNabb house. "You won a prize for the most original costume."  
  
"I'm glad you got the one for prettiest costume," Leslie said softly. "Even if you did have to share it with Michiko."  
  
Frida laughed a little. "I don't mind. Michiko had such a lovely costume, and she looked so graceful. Myeko thought quickly when she sent Camille away. Without that, it would have all ended, and no one would have a good time. This way it did not destroy the party for everyone else." She sighed and sat back in her seat. "But I don't want to see Camille in school tomorrow."  
  
"Me either," Leslie murmured emphatically. After that both girls remained silent till Leslie dropped Frida off at Julie's house; then she headed home, her mind replaying the horrible scene with Camille over and over, like an endless film loop.  
  
Tattoo actually jumped back a bit when she entered the main house._ "Sacre bleu,"_ he blurted out. "You look like a ghost." Leslie's second dose of potion was in the process of wearing off.  
  
"Sorry," she murmured with a faint smile at him.  
  
"That's okay." Tattoo had relaxed and now peered closely at her. "Something went wrong," he deduced. "You don't look very happy. Don't tell me, someone had a better costume than you did."  
  
Leslie shook her head, unable to respond to his gentle teasing. "No, it was a lot worse than that."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Tattoo asked.  
  
She shot him a grateful look. "Could we? I was hoping it wasn't too late. Otherwise I'd never have gotten any sleep tonight for thinking about it."  
  
"Well, sit down," Tattoo urged, gesturing at one of the two club chairs that sat in front of Roarke's desk. "Go ahead, tell me about it."  
  
She sat and began her tale, slowly at first, then with increasing emotion. By the time she wound up the story, she was shaking with outrage. Tattoo's dark eyes were round with disbelief. In French he mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse; then he focused on Leslie. "Let me get this straight. She hates Swedish people because her sister got raped? I don't get it."  
  
"I suppose a Swedish guy must have done it," Leslie said, shrugging. "Tommy said Lauren knows about it and she'll tell us if we ask. I guess now I understand why Camille's always been so hostile to me and downright cruel to Frida. But geez, I didn't even know she had a sister. I've never seen her."  
  
"Andrea was sort of famous around here," Tattoo recalled, "because she's the first student from Fantasy Island to attend Harvard. It even got written up in the paper when she was accepted there. She hasn't been back to the island since she left to start her freshman year, and there's never been any news of her since then. I guess the family wanted to keep things quiet, and I don't blame them. The only thing is, now that Camille's spilled the beans, the secret will get out, and there's going to be a lot of trouble."  
  
"I don't even want to go to school tomorrow," Leslie said. "The kids at the party last night were all on Frida's side, but there's a lot of them who weren't there, and there are bound to be some who agree with Camille. Someone's going to blab and all hell will break loose after that."  
  
§ § § -- November 1, 1982  
  
On the bus the next morning, Lauren finally filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle. "Yeah, Andrea got raped," she said. "It happened about halfway through her freshman year, right before the Christmas break. My aunt and uncle didn't want anyone hearing about it, and they knew if Andrea came home for Christmas, the _Fantasy Island Chronicle_ would be all over her asking how her first year at Harvard was going. They swore all of us, both Camille's family and mine, to secrecy.  
  
"Andrea knew who did it. It was a Swedish exchange student, and she knew his name and everything. She pressed charges right away, and they arrested the guy. But you know how the courts are. Andrea's a senior now and the case is just now about to go to trial. She's never been back for Christmas or the summer break or anything, just because my aunt and uncle are so paranoid about keeping this whole thing under wraps. And of course, she has to stay in Boston and testify at the trial now. No telling how long it'll last, but if it goes fast enough, she might come home for Christmas. She'll have only one more semester after this."  
  
"Well, one thing's for sure," Myeko remarked. "After last night, the whole school's gonna hear about it, and by the end of the day everybody on the island will know."  
  
"That doesn't explain why Camille has been carrying on the way she has," Michiko said.  
  
"Oh, pooh," Lauren muttered. "You guys remember the crazy media circus that surrounded Andrea going off to Harvard?" Michiko, Myeko and Maureen nodded. "This was the fall before you came to the island, Leslie. Well, Camille's always kind of idolized Andrea anyway, but this sort of elevated her into godhood as far as Camille was concerned. I bet the newspaper coverage didn't hurt any, because the whole family got interviewed and had their picture in the paper. Well, once the rape happened and Andrea let the family in on the details, that did it. Camille was livid that someone could have done something like that to her wonderful sister, and she got kind of obsessed. And her hatred for the rapist grew into a hatred for all Swedes. She's been getting worse. You're only part Swedish, Leslie, but Camille didn't know that -- and she still looked down her nose at you when you first came here. So I guess now she hates all whites. It's incredibly stupid, but she seemed to have it more or less under control till last night."  
  
Maureen rolled her green eyes. "So now the lid's been blown off the pressure cooker, and somebody from the _Chronicle_ will probably show up on the Ichinos' doorstep while they're eating supper tonight. Well, they have only Camille and her big prejudiced mouth to blame for that. There must have been 30 kids at your party last night, Myeko. Guaranteed, some of them'll talk."  
  
"How many do you think will agree with Camille?" Leslie asked softly.  
  
Her friends looked at one another. "I didn't think of that," Lauren mumbled.  
  
"Maybe that's why Frida didn't come to school today," Michiko said. "I can't blame her. Camille insulted everything she is, everything she knows and holds dear. It would've made me sick, too."  
  
"She seemed all right last night," Leslie protested. "Heck, she was trying to cheer me up. Maybe she had too much time to think about it after she got home, and it all just got to her. The only reason I'm here is because Tattoo was still at the main house when I got home, and he and I talked about it for awhile."  
  
They all felt the bus lurch to a stop, and looked around to find themselves parked in front of the school. "Well, we're here," Maureen said. "Look, Leslie, if anything happens today, don't worry. We'll all stand by you, no matter what."  
  
Fantasy Island High wasn't a big school, so everyone in the building knew what had happened by the end of the day. But very few students actually took sides; it was as if everyone was waiting to see how things would turn out. As usual lately, Camille avoided the other girls, and sat in the back of the bus on the way home. The other girls sat together and said very little.  
  
When Leslie let herself into the main house, she saw Julie standing in front of Roarke's desk and Roarke himself looking concerned. Julie started to speak as Leslie entered, then broke off and turned in her direction when Leslie opened the door. "Oh, hi, Leslie."  
  
"Hi, Julie," Leslie said. "Is Frida okay?"  
  
"I understand she wasn't in school today," Roarke said, focusing on his ward. "Julie doesn't know what has happened, and says that Frida refuses to talk about it."  
  
"I'll bet," Leslie said and sighed. "I talked with Tattoo about it last night, Mr. Roarke. Didn't he tell you?"  
  
"No, Tattoo has been busy all day," Roarke replied. "Tell us what happened, Leslie."  
  
So Leslie sat down and related the entire story to Roarke and Julie. Julie, whose emotions were an open book, looked more and more outraged the more she heard; Roarke's expression, on the other hand, was one of concern and reflection. When Leslie finished, Julie burst out, "How on earth could that girl say such horrible things about a sweet person like Frida?"  
  
"Calm down, Julie," Roarke suggested and gazed at Leslie. "Have you or your friends seen Camille since then?" he asked her.  
  
Leslie shook her head. "I think it's a case of mutual steering-clear. We avoid her, she avoids us."  
  
"That certainly won't solve the problem," Roarke said.  
  
"Well, then, what will?" Julie demanded.  
  
"Shock treatment," Leslie said, half seriously, her voice lemon-sour. Julie raised an eyebrow at her, an amused expression creeping onto her face.  
  
But Roarke murmured, "Perhaps you have something there, Leslie." He caught the gaping looks on both her face and Julie's, and amended, "In a manner of speaking, that is. Wait until this weekend; a special guest is arriving on the Saturday-morning plane, and with her help, we may be able to make Camille see the error of her ways." 


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- November 6, 1982  
  
On Saturday morning it was Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie who greeted the weekend guests. Julie, having spent a year working as an additional assistant to Roarke, had earned the money she needed to get her bed-and- breakfast operation under way, and was now doing a brisk enough business that she no longer had time to work for Roarke. Roarke had given Leslie a few of the duties Julie used to carry out, but her time was still limited due to school. Leslie was eagerly looking forward to her graduation the next spring.  
  
Roarke introduced a trio of friends who wanted to experience the first wagon train to Oregon in the early nineteenth century; then a young Asian woman disembarked from the plane, her face alight with happiness. She stopped to collect a lei from every single girl along the docking ramp and exchanged a few words with each, as if she knew them all. "What's this, a homecoming or something?" Leslie asked.  
  
Roarke and Tattoo both laughed, and Tattoo said, "You ought to recognize her, Leslie."  
  
"Indeed," Roarke concurred. "That's Andrea Ichino, your friend Camille's sister, who has returned home to Fantasy Island from Harvard, where she has been studying journalism."  
  
"But she hasn't graduated yet, has she?" Leslie asked. "Lauren told us she's in her last year."  
  
"Yes," said Roarke. "Due to...certain circumstances, of which you are both well aware, Andrea has taken a short leave of absence from her studies in order to 'catch her breath', as she put it, before she returns to Boston for her final semester. Ostensibly, while she is here, her fantasy is to work on her main assignment for the year: a meticulously researched article to be published in a local newspaper."  
  
"And she came back to Fantasy Island to do that?" Tattoo scoffed. "I suppose if she feels like researching superstitions about Mount Tutumoa, or explaining the properties of some of those plants you use for potions and stuff, boss, she'll have plenty of material at hand."  
  
"As a matter of fact, she will," Roarke said, "but her article will have nothing to do with Fantasy Island, my friend. Rather, it will be tied in very closely with recent events, and Leslie, I suspect you will be fairly heavily involved." And with that, he accepted his usual beverage and formally greeted their guests, forestalling the boatload of questions Leslie wanted to ask.  
  
About thirty minutes later, Andrea arrived at the main house, lugging a wheeled suitcase and a large carry-on bag that was slung over her shoulder. Roarke rose from his chair in surprise. "Miss Ichino! We weren't expecting you here until this afternoon. Haven't you spent any time with your family?"  
  
"They're the reason I came here first," Andrea said, leaving the suitcase in the foyer and dropping her carry-on beside it before coming down the steps into the study. "Or, more correctly, one of them is. My sister Camille." Andrea focused on Leslie. "I take it you're Leslie Hamilton, one of Camille's friends?" Leslie nodded, wondering how much Andrea knew. "Nice to meet you."  
  
"You too," Leslie murmured, unsure what else she should say.  
  
Andrea seemed to notice this and smiled. "Listen," she said, "I know what happened last Sunday. That's why I'm here." While Leslie gaped at her, she turned to Roarke. "I know I told you that I'm here to research my assignment and all, and it's true, I am. You see, the subject of my article is prejudice and what it does to people and their relationships with one another. And my little sister has proven to be a textbook example that I can use in the article."  
  
"How did you find out so fast?" Leslie finally blurted out.  
  
Andrea turned to her and smiled again. "My parents. I understand that both my brother and sister were at the same Halloween party you went to. Well, I guess Tommy spilled the beans to my parents, since they're the ones who told me everything they knew. They even said the whole thing was rooted in my rape." She said the word easily, without hesitation. "The trial just ended, and the guy who did it was found guilty. He's going to be deported. I've been in Boston nonstop since I first left the island to go to Harvard, and I decided I needed a break for awhile. The fact is, when I got that little story from my parents, I knew right away what I wanted my article to be about. All the research material I need is right here, and I'm going to make full use of it. And maybe, just maybe, I can set my sister's mind straight."  
  
Roarke nodded. "I see," he said. "But I must ask you, how exactly does Leslie fit into your plans?"  
  
"Well, to start with, a little brain-picking is in order," Andrea said and settled herself in one of the twin club chairs in front of Roarke's desk. "Right now, I intend to take some notes on what she remembers from the party, and then she's going to help me get together with the rest of Camille's friends." She paused a moment and glanced at Leslie. "That is, if they still think of themselves as her friends."  
  
Leslie began to turn red and hunched her shoulders; Roarke, noting this, stood up. "Take all the time you need, then," he said. "Tattoo and I have another fantasy to see to. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Ichino, and good writing." Andrea smiled in reply. "Tattoo?" Roarke gestured toward the foyer, and Tattoo preceded his boss out the door.  
  
Left alone in the quiet study, Andrea and Leslie studied each other for a moment. Then Andrea cleared her throat. "This could take a while," she said. "Do you think we can get some lemonade or something?"  
  
"I'll get it," Leslie offered and fairly leaped from her chair; but she got no farther than the foyer before a plump Polynesian woman appeared from the kitchen area. "Oh, Mariki."  
  
"Good morning, Miss Leslie. I understand someone's looking for some lemonade?"  
  
Leslie nodded sheepishly. "Two glasses, please." The Polynesian woman turned back toward the kitchen, and Leslie retreated to her chair. "That's Mariki," she explained. "Mr. Roarke just hired her after the last cook retired. She lives pretty close by, so she's always here before we're awake for the day."  
  
Andrea grinned. "Things sure are changing around here. My parents keep me up-to-date on what's been happening on the island ever since I left for Harvard, and that's how I knew about you. To be completely honest, I'm surprised Camille became friends with you. Ever since the rape, she's become a different person. I assume you know about it."  
  
"Lauren told us the basic story," Leslie said, shifting in her chair for a more comfortable position. "From the way she told it, it sounded like Camille didn't have these feelings before...what happened to you." She tipped her head to one side, bewilderment on her face. "Actually, I'd have thought the whole thing would have affected you, not her. After all, you're the one who had to go through the, uh..."  
  
"Rape," Andrea gently supplied the word. "Don't be shy about saying it, Leslie. Dancing around it won't make it any easier, and it doesn't change what happened. I went through some pretty extensive therapy after the rape and all through my sophomore year, and it helped me come to terms with it." She, too, shifted in her chair. "But you're right. Anybody would think I'd be a wreck and Camille would be supporting me. But it didn't happen that way. Camille and I were always close. There are four years between us, but we shared a bedroom, so we used to talk at night before we went to sleep. When she was really little and the shortest kid in her class, I used to kind of protect her from the bullies who teased her all the time. Maybe that created a sort of hero-worship thing on her part, but it was natural for me to defend my little sister. Who'd think that kind of thing would lead to something like this?"  
  
"Did she used to be prejudiced back then?" Leslie asked.  
  
Andrea thought for a few minutes, during which time Mariki appeared with the lemonade and handed a glass to each girl. They murmured their thanks, and Mariki departed. "I don't really remember that she was," Andrea mused at length. "Not that I would have noticed, I don't think. There weren't as many Caucasians on the island as there are now, and Camille went to school mainly with Polynesians and other Asians. Besides, it would have seemed strange for her to be like that, because my mother's younger sister married an airman from the base over on Coral Island. Camille and Lauren always got along well, and she never showed any hostility toward Lauren's dad." Something seemed to occur to Andrea in the wake of this statement, and she peered at Leslie. "Do you know how she is around him now?"  
  
Leslie shook her head. "I've never really seen them together. Just once at Lauren's last birthday party, and I don't remember seeing her talk to him or anything."  
  
"Uh-huh," mumbled Andrea, making some notes on a pad for a few minutes. Leslie sipped lemonade and watched her, wondering what kind of plan Andrea had for Camille. Presently Andrea looked up, capping her pen, and smiled. "Okay. Next mission, we go talk to Lauren." 


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- November 6, 1982  
  
Lauren welcomed her cousin with a big hug and offered both girls something to drink; having just had lemonade, they declined. "Get yourself something if you want," Andrea suggested. "I've got some questions to ask you. Leslie's with me because she's kind of helping me out concerning Camille."  
  
Lauren's expression curdled. "Oh," she said, managing to convey a wide range of emotions in the one small word, and gestured toward the sliding glass door at the back of the living room. "Well, let's sit on the deck and you can ask away."  
  
"On the outs?" Andrea asked once the girls were seated around a glass-topped, umbrella-shaded table.  
  
"That's putting it mildly," Lauren said. "Do you know what happened at our friend Myeko's Halloween party last weekend?"  
  
"I got the basic story from my parents," Andrea said, "and some from Tommy. Something about Camille insulting a friend of yours from Sweden, because she thought she was defending me in some warped way."  
  
Lauren snorted. "Yup, that's about it. Well, here's what she said." Lauren proceeded to outline her version of the story in fairly graphic detail, and Andrea winced several times on her sister's behalf as she listened. "And you want to know something?" Lauren concluded. "I could have sworn that somehow, every single person at the party was on Frida's side -- even Tommy. There were so many kids there, you'd think the odds favored people taking sides, but no. Not one single person agreed with Camille. Nobody left with her, anyway." A small puzzled frown formed on Lauren's face. "I wonder why?"  
  
Utterly out of the blue, Leslie remembered something Frida had told Roarke on her very first day on Fantasy Island. "Hey," she ventured hesitantly, "maybe I know. I don't think Frida told anyone else about this, and I know about it only because Mr. Roarke made her tell him the day she first came here." She focused on Lauren and Andrea. "Frida said that she can make people think things."  
  
"What do you mean?" Andrea asked.  
  
Leslie scoured her memory. "She said that she looks at a person and makes them think something she wants them to think, or do something she wants. She told Mr. Roarke that was how she got a pass for the charter plane so she could get to the island from Hawaii. She just looked at the person with the passes, thought 'give me a ticket' at him -- and he just gave it to her, no questions asked."  
  
Lauren stared uncomprehendingly, but Andrea's quick mind made the jump instantly. "So what you're saying is, this ability of Frida's might have influenced all the kids around her at the party," she said.  
  
"But how?" Lauren demanded. "It's not like she was looking at them and thinking, 'be on my side and against Camille', or something like that. She couldn't have been; she was too upset."  
  
"I'm not sure," Andrea said slowly. "I think the thing to do here is get Frida and bring her to see Mr. Roarke, and maybe he can help us figure this thing out." She glanced at her watch. "But I've already been here two hours and I still haven't been back home to see the folks. They're going to think something's up if I don't show up pretty soon. Leslie, when do you expect Mr. Roarke to have some free time?"  
  
Leslie thought for a moment. "Probably not till this evening," she said. "I can call up Julie's house and see if Frida can come over for awhile then. Why not make it for about eight? Things usually calm down by then."  
  
"Okay, sounds like a deal," Andrea said.  
  
Lauren had been watching them. "Can I come too? I'd like to see how all this comes out."  
  
Leslie regarded her friend and grinned. "Want to sleep over tonight? I'm pretty much free tomorrow, because Mr. Roarke said I'm 'assigned' to Andrea's fantasy for the weekend. So whenever Andrea feels like getting up and doing something about it, then I go along. If she feels like sleeping in till noon, then so can I."  
  
They all laughed. "I don't think I'll be doing that," Andrea said. "But sure, Lauren, why not. Why don't you get Aunt Carole's permission to stay the night at Leslie's, and then I'll come over later on today and say hi to your folks, and make you tell me all about that fantasy Leslie gave you for your birthday back in February!"  
  
Leslie was able to get word of their plans to Roarke, and also secured his permission to have Lauren stay overnight. From the main house, she then called Julie's bed-and-breakfast inn and learned from Julie that Frida was busy at the moment, but could be spared for whatever Andrea had in mind at the appointed time. "Don't worry, Leslie, I'll send her over in plenty of time," Julie said. "Good luck."  
  
When Andrea arrived at about a quarter till eight, Roarke was still out; so Leslie and Lauren waited with her in the study. Tattoo came in a few minutes after Andrea arrived and surveyed the three girls. "How's the fantasy going, Leslie?" he asked.  
  
"So far so good, I think," Leslie replied.  
  
"Do you want to wait with us, Tattoo?" Andrea invited. "Frida's coming over shortly, and Mr. Roarke's going to help us out with something we thought of earlier today. It ought to be interesting."  
  
Tattoo's eyebrows shot up, vanishing for a moment into his jet-black hair. "Really? Then I just might stick around," he said, and settled comfortably onto a Victorian settee that reposed beneath the tall shuttered windows to one side of the room. Andrea joined him there, opening the notebook she always carried around and showing him what she had thus far. At about ten till, Leslie let in Frida, who had to be introduced to Andrea. Then Frida, Lauren and Leslie stood in a nervous knot between the club chairs in front of the desk, while Andrea continued to fill Tattoo in on the progress of her fantasy.  
  
Roarke walked through the door at precisely eight, just before the grandfather clock finished tolling the hour. "Well," he said, his gaze sweeping around the room at its five occupants. "I didn't realize everyone on the island was to be in on this." But he smiled, belying the tone of his voice.  
  
"This sounds too intriguing to miss, boss," Tattoo said. "I promise, I'll just watch. I won't get in the way."  
  
"Not to worry, my friend," Roarke said. "In fact, it's good that you're here, in case you are needed. All right, then, and what exactly is the purpose of this meeting?"  
  
Andrea came to the desk and explained to Roarke what had happened after she and Leslie had gone to talk with Lauren. Frida's big blue eyes got wider and wider with apprehension as Andrea spoke, and Leslie found herself hoping Frida wouldn't decide to bolt. Roarke listened quietly, then nodded a couple of times and settled in the chair behind the desk.  
  
"I see," he mused and focused on Frida. "I remember that day very well myself. And I must admit, even I had forgotten all about this ability of yours. We never had a chance to properly discuss the extent of this power you have, Frida, and I believe this is an excellent time to find out just what you can do."  
  
Frida looked scared. "Will I get into trouble for it?"  
  
"No, child," Roarke assured her, "we are simply investigating. It is my understanding that no one seemed to agree with Camille's point of view at the party last weekend, that all the guests seemed to side with you. As you have just heard, Andrea's theory is that perhaps you projected something of your thoughts onto the other young people at the party, causing them to empathize with you."  
  
Frida's hand went to her mouth; she looked horrified. "No, Mr. Roarke, I would not do such a thing!"  
  
"I am not saying it was deliberate," Roarke said. "First of all, tell me precisely how you were feeling at the moment Camille left the party."  
  
Frida swallowed loudly and forcibly calmed herself, thinking back. "I was very unhappy," she said at last. "Frightened because Camille seemed to hate me so. Afraid that others would hate me also."  
  
"She was crying up a storm," Lauren remembered. "She was with a girl named Michelle, and Michelle was practically in tears too. Heck, even I kind of felt like crying."  
  
At these words, everyone turned sharply to her. "Do you recall experiencing any sudden emotion that you hadn't been feeling before?" Roarke asked intensely.  
  
Lauren considered it, thinking carefully. "You know, now that you say so," she murmured, "I do remember that it was pretty sudden. Just out of nowhere, I wanted to cry and try to comfort Frida all at the same time."  
  
"What if the other girls felt the same way?" Leslie exclaimed. "Gosh, we ought to have asked Maureen and Michiko and Myeko over here too."  
  
"By all means, ask," Roarke said, gesturing at the phone.  
  
Leslie made several quick calls, and within fifteen minutes the three girls had arrived, all looking puzzled. Leslie and her friends greeted one another, then turned as one to Roarke. "What's going on?" Maureen asked.  
  
"We're doing a little research," Andrea said, without elaborating. "Hi, Michiko, good seeing you. Listen, can you tell me what you felt when Camille insulted Frida and Myeko made her leave? Any sudden emotions that you didn't have before?"  
  
Michiko's bewildered expression melted slowly away as she contemplated. "Well," she said softly, "I do recall suddenly feeling very upset for Frida. At first, mostly I was horrified that Camille would say such terrible things, but then I had this feeling of wanting to cry because Frida was so upset. It seemed to me that I was upset in the same way, as if I were the one Camille had insulted."  
  
"That's how I felt too," Maureen said in surprise.  
  
"So did I," Myeko concurred. "I mean, the feeling just overwhelmed me, to the point that all I could think of was to throw Camille out." She glanced at several of the others before focusing on Roarke. "What's this all about, anyway?"  
  
"Frida apparently has the ability to project her emotions, as well as her thoughts," Roarke said, addressing the room at large. "Frida, you have been aware that you can cause a person to think or do something you wish them to. Judging from this occurrence, and from the fact that this is the first instance of it, it seems to me that you can project your feelings onto other people when you are under emotional stress."  
  
"Get outta here," Myeko burst out. "How can it be that this never happened before? We've known Frida for at least a year. Are you saying that in all that time, she never felt something strongly enough to project it onto somebody else?"  
  
At that moment Frida started to cry, drawing everyone's attention. "It isn't the first time," she sobbed, sinking into a chair. "Only once it happened before, and it so frightened me that I have always tried very hard to control my emotions ever since then."  
  
"It's all right, Frida," Michiko soothed, patting her friend's shoulder. Roarke, watching her closely, saw tears spring into her eyes. "We know you can't help it."  
  
"She is doing it now," Roarke pointed out gently. "Try to calm yourself, Frida. You must realize that you're affecting your friends."  
  
"She's got me too," Andrea said, wiping her eyes. "This is really fascinating." Abruptly her face took on a stunned look. "Hey...Mr. Roarke, I just thought of something! What if Frida could influence Camille into not being prejudiced anymore?" 


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- November 6, 1982  
  
Everyone stared at Andrea in disbelief; even Frida was shocked out of her crying. "But wouldn't that be like brainwashing?" Maureen wanted to know.  
  
This inquiry sparked a lively debate among the girls; Frida merely stared, while Roarke and Tattoo glanced at each other and then both looked at Leslie, who was slowly shaking her head. Roarke caught her gaze and beckoned at her; she leaned over the desk towards him and spoke before he could. "It's too simple, Mr. Roarke," she said flatly. "And anyway, I can already see it wouldn't work."  
  
"Indeed," said Roarke, "and may I ask how you arrived at this conclusion?"  
  
"Frida's influence on people's emotions and thoughts is only temporary," Leslie said. "Just a minute ago when she was crying, I felt like crying too. But the moment she stopped crying, I didn't have that feeling anymore. I felt sympathetic, but not to the point of tears. If her influence on emotions lasts only as long as the emotion, then it stands to reason that the same is true of her influence on thought. As long as she was projecting at Camille that Camille didn't hate Swedish people, she wouldn't -- but as soon as Frida stopped, Camille would just go right back to being bigoted. So it wouldn't do any good."  
  
Roarke nodded; she had produced the explanation he had expected to hear. "Excellent, Leslie," he said approvingly. "You are quite correct."  
  
Their quiet discussion had gradually attracted the attention of their companions, who heard only Roarke's last comment. "What's she right about?" Myeko asked.  
  
Leslie quickly repeated her line of reasoning; her friends looked at one another, and Andrea nodded in understanding. "I see what you're getting at. But there might be a way we can use Frida's ability to help bring my sister to her senses. I don't know just how, but give me a night to sleep on it and I might just come up with something. Frida, are you busy tomorrow?"  
  
"I work at Julie's inn," Frida said. "I won't have free time until the afternoon."  
  
"That's all right," Andrea said. "It gives me more time to think." She turned to Roarke. "If you still need to talk to Frida, Mr. Roarke, that's fine, but I think I've done all I can do for a day. Everybody, thanks for coming over and helping out. I think Leslie and Frida and I can start working on wrapping this thing up."  
  
"What, and leave us in suspense?" Michiko asked in mock outrage. "I don't think so, Andrea Ichino. Now that you've got us involved, you're not getting rid of us. Whatever you decide to do, count me in."  
  
"Me too," Myeko declared.  
  
"And me...but only if you can use our help," Maureen said. "Even if you can't, I still want to know how it all turns out. So either you or Leslie better get in touch with us and fill us in."  
  
"I promise to let you know as soon as I cook up a plan," said Andrea. "Thank you, Frida, for coming over. I think you especially are going to be a lot of help."  
  
--- November 7, 1982  
  
By the next afternoon Andrea hadn't come up with any plans, and was beginning to get the feeling that she'd run into the proverbial brick wall. She was so preoccupied she barely spoke to Camille, who withdrew after a few attempts to draw her sister out. Andrea ate lunch on automatic pilot, then got up and gathered her purse and ever-present notebook.  
  
"Where are you going now?" Camille wanted to know.  
  
"Yes, I wouldn't mind knowing that myself," broke in Katie Ichino, eyeing both her daughters as she spoke. "You've spent barely twelve hours at home since you arrived, Andrea, and most of that asleep. Where do you keep running off to?"  
  
"And why won't you even talk to me anymore?" Camille demanded.  
  
Andrea came out of her frantic reverie long enough to cast her sister an impatient glance. "I told you, I'm trying to research my article," she said, annoyed.  
  
But Camille seemed determined to throw a monkey wrench into Andrea's intentions. "What's this thing all about?" she persisted. "I don't get it, Andrea. I thought you'd tell us all about what happened at the trial."  
  
Finally fully jolted out of her mental haze, Andrea squinted at her sister long enough to make Camille squirm. Maybe Camille's pestering could come in handy after all, she reflected -- and at that moment she knew what she could do. Her gaze turned narrow and chilly. "As a matter of fact, I'm meeting the girls who used to be your friends. They've all turned out to be very nice people, and more than willing to help me research my article. Since I'm going to be with them, I doubt you'll want to hang around with us."  
  
"Wanna bet?" Camille shot back angrily. "If you think I'm letting those traitors steal my sister away, you've got another think coming. I'm going with you, and I don't care if you like it or not."  
  
Andrea carefully hid a satisfied smirk. "Fine," she said carelessly. "Come if you want, but don't be surprised if they ignore you."  
  
"I don't see how you can hang out with them anyway," Camille sniped as the two sisters walked along a well-worn path, known only to locals, through the jungle toward the main house. "Especially with that stupid girl, after what that jerk did to you. I mean, for cryin' out loud, you'd think she was the flipping queen of the world or something, the way everybody stuck up for her at Myeko's party. And the way she's freeloading off Julie MacNabb and all..." She continued on in this vein all the way to the main house, falling silent only when they came close enough to ascertain that Leslie and all the other girls were standing in a group beside the fountain out front. Andrea counted heads and was pleased to see that everyone was there, including Frida.  
  
"Hi, everybody," she said cheerfully.  
  
"Hi, Andrea," a ragged chorus came back. There was a conspicuous lack of greeting for Camille, who glared defiantly at the other girls as if daring any of them to say something to her.  
  
Then Maureen said, "So...did you come up with any ideas, Andrea?"  
  
Andrea glanced at the group near the fountain, at Camille, and then back at the others. "Matter of fact," she said, "I thought we might try interviewing Camille here."  
  
Stunned looks crossed everyone's faces, and Leslie, Maureen, Myeko, Michiko, Lauren and Frida glanced at one another. "Can't imagine what'd she'd have to say that's worth listening to," Lauren said, curling her lip.  
  
Andrea gave her cousin a reproachful look. "Come on, Lauren, you know reporters have to be impartial and unbiased," she said. "That means you get both sides of the story. And in this case, the other side is Camille's. So it's only fair that we let her have her say."  
  
"Who's 'we'?" Lauren retorted coldly. "Sorry, Andrea, but I'm outta here."  
  
"That's up to you," said Andrea, "but that's just stooping to petty childishness. Besides, you'll get your say too, you know."  
  
Lauren hesitated for a long moment; then, scowling, she sighed loudly and rejoined the others. "Oh, all right," she grunted grudgingly. "You might as well get on with it then, so we can get it over with."  
  
Everyone sat on the edge of the fountain, facing one another across the water. "All right," Andrea began, opening her notebook, "go ahead, Camille. Tell me what you said to Frida, and why you said it."  
  
Camille shot her former friends another "I dare you" glance; when no one spoke, she shrugged and began to talk, somewhat smugly. "Myeko's party would've been perfect if it weren't for...certain people," she said, with a snide glance at Frida. "I don't go around asking for trouble, so I tried to stay away from...those people all evening. But geez, when they shove their faces right up into yours and start talking about where they come from and how much they miss it..."  
  
While Camille spilled her story, gradually building up to a rant, Andrea surreptitiously watched Frida, whose face grew more and more disturbed. _Great, it's working!_ she thought. _Keep it up, sis, and watch what happens!_  
  
After a moment Frida turned aside, and Leslie and Michiko, seated closest to her, reflected Frida's obvious distress. The wave of Frida's emotion visibly washed out through Maureen and Lauren, Myeko and even Andrea herself. For the first time, Andrea got the brunt of Frida's pain over Camille's cruelty, and nearly dropped her notebook into the fountain. She swallowed thickly and squeezed her eyes closed.  
  
Camille had stopped talking the moment Andrea had registered Frida's emotion, and now she stared at each of the others in turn. "There you go again!" she shouted. "Sticking up for that girl just like the last time!"  
  
Her words made Frida sit up straight with abrupt awareness, then rocket to her feet in one swift motion. To everyone's amazement, she whipped around and glared at Camille with such instant and enormous rage that her friends all cringed, gasping. This time Camille, no longer distracted by the narration of her own point of view, caught a full dose of Frida's telegraphed emotion. "I won't do this!" Frida snapped, as angry as anyone had ever seen her. "If Camille is so stupid that she blames me for something another person did, just because that other person comes from my country, then she can continue to be stupid." She glared fiercely at the stunned Camille. "For only a stupid person hates another for something that is uncontrollable!" With that, Frida stalked away from them down the lane. With her departure went her palpable rage, and everyone else sat in silence for a moment, collecting themselves.  
  
"Damn," Andrea whispered. It had been her hope that Camille, like the others before her, would feel the onslaught of Frida's pain. Despite Leslie's reasoning that it would be only a temporary solution, Andrea had hoped it might be enough to at least make Camille think things over. Now it looked as if all she had done was create even more enmity than there had been before.  
  
"Wow," said Myeko's voice, faintly. "Can you believe it?"  
  
"I've never seen her that way," Michiko said. The others murmured agreement; only Leslie was silent. She sat staring blankly into the water, as if frozen in place.  
  
"Leslie, are you okay?" Andrea asked.  
  
Leslie started violently, blinked and looked up. "Did you guys feel the same thing I did just now?" she asked.  
  
"What do you mean?" Andrea wanted to know.  
  
"Frida really let her temper loose," Leslie said, "and I'd have thought the rest of us would've got boiling mad too. But I didn't feel angry at all. Instead, it was more like...like some kind of battering ram, a force that just flattened everything in my mind -- thoughts, emotions, the whole kit."  
  
Her friends mulled it over and, one by one, concurred with this. "But we weren't even the direct target," Maureen pointed out, and at this they all turned as one to stare at Camille.  
  
Camille was sitting in the dirt as if someone had shoved her down. There was a dazed look on her face and her eyes were blank, like a doll's. Andrea went to her and waved her hand in front of Camille's eyes a couple of times, but Camille didn't respond.  
  
"Oh boy," murmured Leslie, gaping wide-eyed, and then spun and ran for the house, shouting, "Mr. Roarke! Mr. Roarke!!" 


	8. Chapter 8

§ § § -- November 7, 1982  
  
Under Roarke's direction, the girls had walked Camille into the house like a life-sized puppet and sat her onto the settee beneath the tall shuttered windows in Roarke's office. Now the girls were explaining to Roarke what had happened to put Camille in her apparently catatonic state.  
  
When they finished, Roarke mulled silently over the situation, gazing absently at Camille. Then he seemed to come back to the here and now, and focused on Leslie. "Tell me what you felt at the moment Frida shouted at Camille," he requested.  
  
Leslie told him, and he nodded. "The rest of you?" he asked, and got a series of solemn nods in reply. "I see. Leslie...how long did it take before you became aware of anything other than Frida's rage?"  
  
"I don't think I was really aware of anything until Frida walked away," Leslie said slowly. "The first thing I remember is seeing her halfway down the lane from here. Up till then, I kind of felt this...I don't know, this mental paralysis, I guess. I couldn't think at all, even if I tried, till she was some ways off."  
  
Roarke nodded. "It would appear," he said, "that since Camille was the direct recipient of Frida's emotional broadcast, she got the full brunt of its effect, whereas the rest of you received something of a penumbral dose. I suspect Camille will recover on her own, except that it will take longer, of course."  
  
"But will she be the same as she was?" Andrea asked anxiously.  
  
"Aren't all of you the same?" Roarke countered.  
  
"But we didn't get the full blast like Camille did," Andrea pointed out. "Maybe we didn't get enough to alter our minds in any way, but since Camille took it head-on, there's no telling what might have happened."  
  
Lauren snorted. "Maybe if we're lucky, it was enough of a shock to make her a decent human being. Like getting hit by lightning cured some woman's muscular degeneration once." The others stared at her, in Roarke's case fighting a smile. "Well, it did," Lauren insisted. "I read about it somewhere."  
  
"If you say so," Andrea said skeptically. "Okay, Mr. Roarke, I guess we'll just have to wait."  
  
It took nearly two hours before Camille came back, all at once. She sat up with a snap, badly startling all the girls and making Roarke raise a surprised eyebrow. Andrea blurted, "Camille, are you all right?"  
  
Camille stared at her with an amazed look and asked in awe, "What'd that girl do to me, anyway?"  
  
This inquiry was greeted with a mutual eye-rolling from most of the girls, but it was Roarke who stepped in. "Tell us what you remember, Camille."  
  
Camille thought about it for long enough that the others were starting to think she had no memory of the incident; then she said, "It was like being crushed by a blue whale. Like she pushed me down without ever touching me. And she was _mad_...man oh man, was she mad. It was like she set my mind on fire." She blinked back to the here-and-now and focused on Roarke. "I had no idea she could do anything like that. I guess..." here she shrugged sheepishly -- "maybe I better watch out what I say to her from now on."  
  
Amusement gleamed from Roarke's eyes. "Perhaps you should," he agreed humorously.  
  
Camille turned then to Andrea and sighed. "Look, sis, I think I know what you're trying to do. You want me to quit hating Frida just because she's Swedish. And I gotta admit, she had a point when she said I'm being stupid to hate her for something she has no control over. I think that's really what got me." She cocked her head then and studied her older sister. "But you still haven't told us exactly what happened with that guy, and the trial and all. Come on, Andrea, don't you hate him for what he did?"  
  
Andrea slouched in her seat a little, a look of resignation creeping across her face. "I could spend my time hating the guy till I'm a bitter old bat," she said, "but then I'd never get anything done, and I have a lot of plans for my life. I can't stop you from hating anyone, Camille. You can hate the heck out of the guy who raped me if you want to; it's all the same to me. But I've got better things to do."  
  
Camille mulled that over and smiled faintly. "I guess I can understand that. But I think I better steer clear of Frida from now on." She looked at the others, an uncharacteristically meek expression on her usually belligerent features. "I've probably done too much damage with her to fix it now, but maybe you guys would be willing to give me another chance."  
  
They looked at one another, shrugged and smiled, one by one. "Okay, fine, but I still think you should apologize to Frida for what you did to her last weekend," Lauren said. The other girls nodded agreement.  
  
Camille glanced at Andrea, then nodded. "That's fair."

- - - - - - - - -

"It really _was_ just that simple," Leslie mused that evening. "It didn't work quite the way I think Andrea wanted it to, but it did work, more or less."  
  
Roarke regarded her. "Indeed. I must admit, what amazes me is that it worked to any extent at all. The simple fact remains that bigotry, while certainly qualifiable as 'stupid', can be cured only by the person who harbors it. Camille will have to discover this on her own. And the rest of you will simply have to be patient with her." He smiled. "Perhaps you have all learned a little something this weekend. Now I suggest you get a little sleep; tomorrow is another school day, after all."  
  
"You didn't have to remind me," Leslie complained good-naturedly. "But I have to be honest, I'm glad all this is over with." Halfway across the room to the stairs, she paused. "You know, it'd be really interesting to see Andrea's final article about all this."  
  
"Indeed it would," Roarke said and smiled. "Indeed it would."  
  
THE END 


End file.
